“I’m not,” she answered defensively. He kept running his thumbs over her arm. It was distracting. And intoxicating. “I don’t feel any differently toward you than I did last night, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
He tightened his hold on her. For some reason, her answer seemed to anger him. Well, if he expected her to beg him for more, he would be sadly disappointed. She wasn’t that girl. “Bullshit.”
“No. Not bullshit.”
“Prove it,” he dared her, his tone low and somehow seductive. “Prove you don’t want me to kiss you, right here, right now.”
Her heart sped up, and her mouth dried out. She swallowed uncomfortably. “And how, exactly, do you expect me to do that?”
“By kissing me.” He splayed a hand across her lower back, possessive and commanding, and hauled her closer. She didn’t even bother to resist. “Look the beast in the eye and show me it doesn’t scare you.”
She licked her lips, both hands still on his chest. “What good would that do? If I’m scared of kissing you, like you seem to think I am, what will doing it prove?”
“Asks the girl who locked herself in a closet because she was scared of dark, small spaces…” He dipped his hand lower, resting on the curve of her butt. “Just to prove she wouldn’t let it get the best of her.”
“I was fifteen and stupid,” she said, cheeks flushed. “And you’re comparing yourself to a closet.”
“I’m all right with that.” He lifted a shoulder. “Are you afraid it’ll change your feelings for me?”
“No. Of course not.” She tilted her chin up, staring up into those intoxicating hazel eyes. The challenge in his was impossible to ignore. “I could make out with you right here, and again—nothing would change between us.”
He lowered his face to hers, stopping short of kissing her. “So. Kiss me.”
All day long, she’d been trying to excuse last night as some sort of thoughtless, drunken decision that would never be repeated. But they were both dead sober now, and last night hadn’t been a drunken night of impulsiveness. The truth was, in the years leading up to last night, she’d thought about the two of them a lot.
There had been tons and tons of warning thoughts.
She just chose to ignore them all and live in the moment last night. To take a chance. But now he was here, holding her, and asking her to do it again.
And, God help her, she was debating it.
Curling her hands into balls, she fisted his shirt and tugged him closer.
His gaze heated even more at the small movement, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “Even though I shouldn’t, I’m gonna tell you the truth. I lied earlier, when you asked me if I was thinking about having you again.” His gaze roamed over her, heating her in places she’d never been heated before. “I’ve been thinking about it. All day. But the thing is, I’ve been trying not to.”
She gripped his shirt so tightly her fingers ached. “Me, too.”
“All I can think about is making you scream my name again. And I want to hear that sexy little moan you let out when you come. It can’t possibly be as hot as I remember it being. I want to make you come, again and again, until the urge is dead, and I can go back to not wanting to rip your clothes off every time I see you,” he said, his hand slipping down to cup her butt and pull her impossibly closer. “But if you don’t feel the same way, say the word. I’ll never mention how fucking hot you look when you come, or how badly I want to bury my dick inside of you, this time when I’m sober enough to know exactly what I’m doing and why. Just say the word.”
A small moan escaped her.
She couldn’t help it. And he was right.
The urge to see him naked again was ridiculously strong. So maybe she was wrong about avoiding doing it again. Maybe if they banged it out of their systems, they could go back to being the platonic friends they had been before they succumbed to their desires. Neither of them were the type to get attached or addicted to their lovers, so it was only a matter of time until they both got this overwhelming desire out of their systems.
Maybe this was the only way to get back to square one.
Even as she talked herself into ignoring the warning signs yet again, a small voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up. It kept asking…
But what if it made it worse?
“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered. “I wanna fuck you again. Do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “And that’s what scares me the most.”
He backed her against the counter, his focus locked on her mouth. “Why does that scare you?”